author, singer, scientist

What the Water Sang

Water laps against the walls. I can hear it from my pallet on the floor of my master’s house. Sounds sneak in through the cracks and echo off the tiles.

The other girl-slaves say the water soothes them, but not me.

To me, the water sounds hungry, licking away at the stones night after night. It’s quieter when the air is still, fluttering with ripples from water rats and gondolas.

Sometimes the wind sneaks in from the ocean and twists along the canals. I hear it dancing with the water, beating together against the pale green walls–scratching their way in, bit by bit, trying to set me free.